I covered my paints up and headed over to where she was bringing out food. Hunger hit me, another reminder that I hadn’t died. For months I hadn’t felt the urge to eat. The time I spent in hospital between surgeries on my spine had seen me lose almost a quarter of my body weight, muscle wasting. I felt guilty for how I’d handled it now, at the way I’d let it hurt the people around me even more. Everyone lost Ryan and I hadn’t wanted to live, so I hadn’t tried. It had been Janie and my nephews that had made me pull myself into something other than a ghost.
“This looks great.” I sat down next to her, our legs touching and she gave me a smile that warmed me more than any hot summer.
There was a shy shrug. “We were doing picnic baskets for some of guests so I figured I’d make extra for us. That’s if you want to share a late lunch with me.”
I put my hand on her back and felt her body stretch, move into my touch. “Only if I can buy you dinner.”
Her smile was genuine. “I’d like that.”
“Good. So would I. How about the tapas place in Beaumaris?” I had no idea how we would get there. Maybe a bus. I could handle a bus. Or boat.
There was a nod. “Definitely. Tell me about what you’re painting. It’s beautiful.”
I wrapped one arm around her and started to attack the sandwiches with the other. She’d made typically British sandwiches, cucumber without the crusts, pate, ham and mustard. Then there were scotch eggs and tiny pies, with ready made up scones for afterwards, like something my sister would prepare for her boys if they were going out for the day.
“It’s the mountains over there.”
“That’s the blues?”
“Yep. The yellow and white are kind of people who we’ve lost.” I didn’t know how else to explain it as it sounded pathetic and weak.
“Ryan?”
“Ryan.”
She kissed the side of my face. “Eat.”
We finished our food in silence, bodies touching, watching the sun as it glided over the mountains on a never-ending journey.
“I’m glad you’re here.” Her words were quiet, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves. “I’m sorry about Ryan and everything you’ve been through, but I’m glad you’re here.”
I didn’t know if I could tell her that I was too, because that felt too much like being grateful for the crash, but right now I felt peace like I hadn’t in months, years even.
“I’m glad I’m with you. I wish he could’ve been here to meet you and see it here. Although you’d have probably spent Saturday night with him and not me.” We’d had few competitions over women, sometimes just because Ryan figured he could. He’d have liked Anya, but not for himself. For me.
“Probably not.” She leaned further into me, her soft skin warm against mine.
I shifted us so she sat between my legs and could lean onto my back. I couldn’t see her as we spoke, but I could feel her and hold her. Holding her seemed crucial at the moment, the prolonged contact essential in reminding me that merely existing wasn’t the only option.
“I like you.” Her words were simple.
“Why?”
She laughed gently. “Because I do. How you helped me when I was upset; how you listen and understand without me having to explain. I know we’ve both been through similar sorts of losses and I guess that’s why I feel easy around you. And you’re hot.” She grabbed my bicep as best she could. “These are pretty good, you know.”
“I get it. You’re all about the muscle.” I wrapped my arms around her. “That’s all I’m wanted for. That, and my dick.”
Her laugh was louder this time. “You have other qualities.” Soft hair fell against my chest and arms. I remembered waking up with it across me, like some kind of princess had fallen asleep in my pauper’s bed.
“I’d ask you to elaborate but I don’t think you’re going to want to feed my ego.”
She kissed my arm. “I don’t think you have an ego to feed. I think the crash has stripped you of it.”
My words were on the wings of a seagull as it flew out to sea.
“Gabe. I get the guilt that you feel. But guilt isn’t going to reverse time and stop that driver being on the wrong side of the road.”
“I know.”
